Long Adjacent Poems
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A red tail hawk perches on the rooftop of my adjacent building,
watching the activity at my window where I feed my local pigeons,
but not one pigeon will the hawk kill,
while they are feeding at my window sill.
The hawk waits until they all leave,
to relax perched in surrounding trees,
and then gliding high up above, very still, very silently
the hawk dives into the branches of one of the surrounding trees,
then emerges moments after from the branch's leaves.
The hawk has made its pigeon kill successfully.
The hawk flies off to find somewhere to eat in peace,
but is marauded by a murder of crows suddenly.
The crows harass the hawk, tormenting it relentlessly,
until the dead pigeon locked in its talons gets released.
The crows chase the hawk off and all share in the feast
of the hawk's prey that the hawk never got a chance to eat.
Outside my window this kind of drama will often play,
day after day, nearly every single living day.
Elizabeth Willing Powel: “Well, Doctor, what have we got, a republic or a monarch?”
Ben Franklin, leaving the 1787 Constitutional Convention: “A republic, if you can keep it”.
~ from the Jame McHenry Journal, Library of Congress
Power to the people, as they say.
The founding fathers wanted it that way.
They had to be brave and risk their necks,
write a constitution to put the powers in check.
They didn't want a king or autocrat,
so they had to fight and not lay down flat.
Now, in its two hundred-fiftieth year,
let's make sure it doesn't disappear.
According to the constitution's plan,
too much power is not in the hands of one man.
If we should become complacent,
we'll become dictator-adjacent,
and as the story history will tell
such countries don't turn out so well.
The founders told us we must fight,
to preserve our every right.
Whirling irate firework spectacle
Pings stillness with rust erode array
Afflicted heart thrown debri rain affectional
Rapidly spun unkempt sparks spill their firey foray
Jettisoned from adjacent universe
Excited flames offer heat unfathomed
Rage innate kills cold in hungry encompass
Newly secured domain set alight is purely dazzled
Supernova exploding sends elements
Strikes my stagnant galaxy in rays of gamma
Studded with hundred year tenure true limerence
Furnace insistance fuels hot hum of echoed enamour
Amber damp larva gradual arousal
Resistance drips ice melt silent submission
Logic tarnished in star's splendourous encounter
Ignited forever by harshness of flared flame inquisition
Structure remodelled, harmonious
Black hole remaps unique secret binary
Inhibit's last rites scribed by stellar bond solacious
Scars lasered invisible by nova who renamed me Libby
10th November 2020
Written for Contest :
There Is A Star With My Name On It
Sponsor : Silent One
Travelling down the rocky path
Adjacent to the river
I come upon a beautiful soul
The Old Indian Giver.
The sorrow swells within my chest
And drains my very being,
The empathetic old Indian Giver
Turns away without saying a thing.
My life was graced one winters day
With the warmest smile I’d seen,
Keeping me afloat throughout my life
More calm that I’d ever been.
We married and loved, for years on end,
Until one tragic day,
When my entire life came crashing down
Turning my life to gray.
I realize the old Indian Giver
Was just doing his job,
But I don’t think he realizes
My soul he also did rob.
Man Dangling
The jump was from a 12 story building roof
Glass bursting out from intense heat
Below, flames enveloped each floor
Engulfed them, every room, fire and flame
An aluminum pole stood adjacent to the site
A ghost like image leaps in desperation
Fear motivates those covered in fear
Griped in panic with shaky hands
Grasping chance
12 stories down don’t really tell the tale
He climbed up to reach the pinnacle
14 stories high he stood alone
Too frightened to look down
He balanced on the cylindrical top
Narrow but firm for an awkward foot
Anchored on one worn out shoe
Torn laces and large hole in the sole
Held him in place against a rising wind
Not favoring him to win
As he watched his home burn down
Neighbor’s lost theirs as well
He swayed from side to side from way up there
Concrete held the pole in place
Shoe laces simply dangled and so did he
Contemplating everything the eye could see
On the pole, firmly in his place
6/3/17
Continual verbatim
And ultimatums
Better know what they're payin'
During times of economic downfall and inflation
I got no time for playin'
And don't care what others are sayin'
Skills like Raiden
Time I turn super saiyan
Mixed with Jason
Any anything made by Wes Craven
Near and far from any raven
Across every basin
And all the nations
During any occasions
Got to make more bacon
In the form of Benjamin Franklins
Events occuring for short or long-term durations
Regarding similar and different situations
I've been way down below the foundation
In the basement
Below layers of pavement
Still found inspiration
As the universe remained in rotation
Since the dawn of creation
Among objects nowhere near or adjacent
To lots that were or were not vacant
With the talent of a mason
And knowledge of a shaman
In any location
Betrayal's kiss was liquidly subtle, wet with firm
intuition
It's knowing lips soft & unassuming exuded
an aura of lust
Full of temptation it beckoned me portraying
illusions of trust,
but behind the mask were sharp teeth seeking
bloody incisions
The intimacy came with bad intentions closely
guarding its actions,
but being adjacent afforded insight into its
deadliest passions
My reaction were firewalls to be erected
at once,
as I stood in the middle of 2 pillars pondering
destruction of fronts
The aforementioned affront was spoken of to
the deepest of mind,
but was ignored as toxic venom intoxicated
the mind
The silver lining? A coined phrase hanging
like ropes from a tongue
"Make sure that you look before you leap" as more
betrayals will come
The warning was heeded so I escaped by the
skin of my teeth,
as the streets watched the intersections speaking
of the fate I would meet
In the end, I was delivered from the mouth of
the beast, emerging with mindset
firmly intact
I was meat, but indigestible because my peace
brought equilibrium back
In a never sleeping metropolis,
In the dungeon of a room,
My days and nights are locked!
I am a traveler on a street, with no end in sight,
But just the bustle of the moving crowd,
And a handful of burnt dreams for company
My ‘kingdom’ is in the third floor,
Of an old street building,
Now languishing in neglect,
Facing dilapidation,
Just like my own life,
In the chronic agony of existence!
While the adjacent buildings,
Renovated and restored
Mine, under a bankrupt landlord,
Is on the verge of instant collapse
Looking through the chinks in the wall
And craning my neck
Over barricades of buildings
Amid the swirl of traffic,
I get a glimpse of the slum below
In all its squalor and dirt,
And a medley of lousy images
Bleeding into one another like water colors.
Now and then, I see,
Beggars in bundled rags,
Along cracked pavements.
Some squatting,
Some sleeping away to glory,
With street dogs coming to share
The leftovers in their begging bowls
And lick their wounds!
Sometimes I take away my glance
From the dismembered corpses of the dead!
On another side,
In plush residential colonies,
With landscaped courtyards,
And cerulean swimming pools,
Sentries stand on guard
To admit 'Sahibs'
Sliding in Mercedes and Rolls Royce!
A little far, in the open balconies
Of star hotels,
Men toast goblets of wine!
Oh! What stark divide!
This grave imbalance is so contemptible.
Woe to the society where there is widespread anomie!
There’s a burning yen nomadic deep within entrenched,
to absorb fresh environments ambrosial on foot,
where incidental hue or august colour wash abound,
or that March bloom tantalising shady patch,
with its dreamlike mystic wide-flung allure,
some blue pigment dawn whisper tempting spur on,
that hidden orange-red sunlit prompt I can’t curb,
I follow blindly without oppugning brier cloak
pitfalls,
yet noonday mishap neither blight nor wanton cross,
as other fellow venturers might script a manifold offshoot,
but from sound and slant sentient aspect,
I can awaken fond galvanic episodes,
of uproarious elation emanating from a golden grained beach,
where energetic offspring unleash their zeal,
adjacent to labyrinthine thriving townscapes,
ancient river, the stuff of verse and bard,
parallels its salted surging thunderous ripple,
with its indigo bold rush beneath a stoic wharf.
to capture lush spots
with the pourboire of bright eye
as timeless haven
Yet late phase hours settings have cachet,
in tandem with the peep of day burst,
as I reveal a harvest swept ashore,
flotilla at a dock and day boundary,
so nocturnal bliss enraptured round each plinth,
and plethora of svelte unearthly steps,
where haunted hair-raising halos splash,
adding lustrous night fly element,
beside the raucous alleyway caper,
inchoate, invisible, intriguing inlay,
shards of boisterous daring impishness,
cast at my intrepid moonlit atman,
enigmatic echoes chase skinflint shadows,
whoosh of splintered black ice sepulchral,
under reckless swerving car manoeuvre,
muddy slush speckled rim upshot,
street lanterns wondrous wide arc madrigal,
spoon wink and woo lambent opus,
banisher of eerie eve ghost glow silence
earth atmosphere shall
watch bemused as moonlight orb
peers at globe beneath
Herd-mongers, schoolmarms and glorious twats
Piloting leased arks through drenched parking lots
Cadillacs cleansed of a fine week’s debris
Just in time for the polish of sanctimony
A river of swine, like the Jordan, it crosses
Over deserts of disheartened workers and bosses
The fracas of worshippers, beanied and veiled –
In the Third World, could pass for a fish market sale
There are loaves, there are nets – there’s nothing to eat
There’s so little legroom; there are beads on my seat!
There’s a mountain of missals, there’s a tower of babblers
And a nice hidden room for perpetual hagglers
There’s prime VIP seating, a great view of a tomb
Completely adjacent to the activities room
There’s most anything anyone could need or want,
So long as it comes from a baptismal font
When in walks a figure, so stiff and ordained,
You know in a moment he must be a saint
He’ll heal a few cripples, a Lazarus or two
And distribute those wafers that keep us renewed
Then we offer up thanks to some white-beard in the ether
With all of the joy of a rheumatic fever
And spill from the pews, lemmings on marble tile
And back onto the ark for brunches-du-style
‘cause the deluge has cornered-down many a mile
And sacrificed many a kind word and smile
Tolerance chiseled, evolution defiled –
Maybe let’s keep its hooks off the last decent child
Tolerance chiseled, evolution defiled –
Maybe let’s keep its hooks off the last decent child.